I Want You Back
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Slight AU, picking up right at the end of s3. Lucien follows Jean to Adelaide, but neither of them could have planned for what came next. A story of allowing love to grow where it had once seemed impossible.
1. Chapter 1

**I Want You Back**

 _Chapter One_

Jean took her seat on the bus, willing herself to move past the feeling of hurt and disappointment. She'd been so foolish to think she'd seen him at the bus stop. Surely he was busy. This case, so wrapped up in his mother's tragic demise, was weighing heavily on him. Though he had taken the time to bake scones for her the day before. But perhaps that was just a bribe to get her to help him on his case. Yes, that was far more likely. They'd had moments before, of course, in the throes of emotion. But Jean had kid herself that he cared for her as more than a friend and confidante. He just didn't like change. That had to be it. He didn't want to lose someone he'd come to depended on for food and a clean house and an organized surgery and a sounding board for his ideas. He'd commented that she was smarter than he, but surely that was just a kind word from him. Despite his pigheadedness and lack of social grace, he always was a frighteningly kind man with a great empathy for the plight of others. When he noticed. Rarely had he ever noticed her. But when he did…

She was shaken out of her reverie when the bus suddenly stopped. Jean looked out the window to see what was going on. They weren't even out of Ballarat yet. A flash of movement caught her eye and she looked up to the front of the bus.

And there he was. Lucien Blake was staring at her with an almost desperate look in his eye.

Jean felt her stomach do somersaults as he approached. She awkwardly moved to the side of the seat to give him space to sit beside her.

"Jean, I…"

"No. Don't say anything. Not yet," she insisted quietly. Her head was swimming. Why was he here? Had he flagged down the bus just to say goodbye to her? Could it be at all possible that her feelings were in any way really reciprocated by him? She'd just started to convince herself that it was a lost cause, that could never care for her the way she cared for him, and never would. Why, oh why, was he on the bus?

Lucien took Jean's hand in a manner she'd never quite experienced before. His large, slightly rough hands covered hers. He clutched at her longingly yet his caresses on the back of her hand were so terrifyingly gentle. Almost…loving.

He reached his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. When he pressed a reverent kiss to the top of her head, she couldn't resist the impulse to close her eyes, savoring the feeling of his beard on her forehead. Lucien tucked her under his chin and gave her a squeeze.

Jean felt every ounce of tension her body could hold. She was like putty in his arms, but everything inside her tightened like a vice grip. The tighter he held her hand, the tighter her nerves strangled her. This couldn't be real. This surely couldn't really happen to her.

But he didn't let go. He held onto her. He nuzzled into her hair and stroked her hand with his thumb and held on tight to her shoulder. From where her head rested on his chest, she could hear his heart beat in her ear. It wasn't frenzied, as hers was. No, his was steady and strong.

Jean had the strange feeling that they had swapped places. She wasn't used to being the insecure one. She had always prided herself on being steadfast and reliable, dependable and loyal. He had always been all over the place, drinking and having fits of depression and righteous anger. She'd spent so long taking care of him and loving each and every minute of it, even when he drove her absolutely batty. On occasion he'd tried to take care of her when she'd really needed it. And she had been grateful. In her weakest moments, he had held her in his arms as she cried, given her a hand to hold when she needed to be balanced. But while she was grateful for his presence in those moments, she'd hated herself for the vulnerability. Every moment he had to take care of her meant that she couldn't take care of him. And he needed it so much more than she. As Christopher had told her the last time she'd seen him, she had always carried on. No one had ever allowed her to consider anything else. No one until Lucien.

The time on the bus ticked by. The light outside slowly descended in the sky and the shadows grew longer. Eventually, Jean had to sit up.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he sputtered, removing his hand from her shoulders and attempting to release her hand.

But she held onto him. "My neck is starting to get a little stiff," she explained, stretching slightly. Jean didn't comment on it, but she wouldn't let him let go of her hand.

He smiled at the unexpected good fortune. He put his newly freed hand atop hers.

"How far are you travelling?" she asked.

"However far you go," he replied, looking into her eyes.

The intensity of his gaze made her nervous. His focus was unwavering, boring his sapphire blue into her turquoise green.

She blinked, breaking the spell. "Adelaide is a long way off. You haven't got any luggage, have you?"

A sheepish grin spread on his face. "I'm afraid I didn't make any arrangements before leaving. I just knew I couldn't let you go."

Jean didn't know what to say. She swallowed hard, begging herself to not show how overwhelmed she was, praying she wouldn't shake or cry. This was no declaration of love from Lucien. She wouldn't allow herself to even imagine it might be. Because if it was, her heart might just break.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"I assume you found Neville Franklin's killer?" Jean eventually asked, hoping to move him away from any sort of emotional display he had been about to begin in the middle of a crowded bus.

Lucien was grateful for the distraction. This was neither the time nor the place for an important conversation with Jean. Best save that for a more private setting. "Ah, yes. That would be Jock Clement. Over my mother, actually."

Jean was taken aback by his nonchalant tone. "Your mother?"

"Yes, it seems that Clement poisoned her with strychnine when she refused to have an affair with him, and Franklin helped him cover it up. Doug Ashby could never get any proof on either of them. Franklin threatened to expose what Clement had done, so Clement did the same to him," Lucien explained.

"Jock Clement did all that over a spurned advance!? Oh Lucien, that's horrible."

Lucien cast his eyes downward. "And poor Doug Ashby. He was there when I confronted Clement. Doug was shot in the scuffle. As he died in my arms, he told me that he always loved my mother. I know he always felt he'd failed her memory when he couldn't find her killer."

Jean, still holding Lucien's hand, gave it a comforting squeeze. "I'm so sorry."

"At least it's all over now. All buried and gone." He took solace in Jean's words and soothing presence.

As she pondered all Lucien told her, Jean began to think aloud. "I know I never knew your mother, but from the way your father always talked about her, I almost feel as though I did. He did sort of hint at the fact that she charmed everyone she met, but I can't imagine what it must have been like for either of them with the kind of attention that would elicit the things those men did. A beautiful, charismatic, artistic woman, with foreign customs and a foreign language, dropped in Ballarat. I have no doubt that she loved your father very much, and that she loved you. She must not have been unfaithful, but to be pursued by Jock Clement, and probably Doug Ashby, right under the nose of her husband? That's just despicable behavior from those men. And your poor father! Dr. Blake was never a very affectionate man, but he was kind and caring in his way. He surely knew what was happening."

"If he did, he never said anything to them about it. Not that he would. Never one to ruffle feathers, my dad," Lucien pointed out.

Jean nodded. "That is very true. I cannot imagine the pain it must have caused him."

Now that he'd told Jean what had transpired, Lucien did not want to dwell on the subject. And hearing Jean speak about his father this way was a little odd. When he'd first taken over the practice, she would constantly compare Lucien to his father, chastising him for anything he did to tarnish the legacy that Dr. Thomas Blake had cultivated in Ballarat, scolding him whenever he did things in a manner in which the deceased Dr. Blake would have disapproved. But when Jean spoke of him with such reverence, uncompared to Lucien, he was taken back to his first meeting with Jean, and he smiled.

"What are you grinning at?" she asked, her brow furrowing. In her mind, nothing about this conversation warranted a smile of any sort.

"Hearing you talk about Dad so much. It just reminds me of when we first met," he said.

"Oh? How so?"

Lucien had to chuckle. He couldn't believe he was actually going to admit his first impressions to her. "When Dad wrote me about Mrs. Beazley, the housekeeper, I had a picture in my head of a middle-aged woman with a bland wardrobe and a strict voice. And then you answered the door on my arrival back in Ballarat, and I suddenly wondered about the motivations of my elderly father."

Jean's eyes went wide, and she gaped at him, scandalized at his insinuations. "I beg your pardon!"

"You were much younger and far prettier than I was expecting. It took me by surprise, is all. And of course, you were very strict with me in the beginning."

"Well, you needed it."

He laughed, "Yes, I probably did. And it was very obvious that there was absolutely nothing untoward about Dad's affection for you or yours for him. You took very good care of him. Sometimes better than he deserved, I'd imagine."

"It was my job. And I was honored to do it. He was a wonderful man, your father. He gave me a lot more responsibility than most people would. He opened his house to me. And he always treated me with respect."

Lucien caressed her hand again. He knew he was being bold. A voice in his head told him to let go of her hand and allow her to tell him off. But he had chased down a bus in order to tell her how he felt and beg her to come home with him. He wouldn't lose nerve now. "You've taken better care of me than I've ever deserved, too."

"It was my job," Jean repeated, this time in a low tone, barely above a whisper. "And you needed me."

"Yes, I did," he agreed.

"And you don't anymore. You've come so far, Lucien. I know you'll be alright after I'm gone." She tried to smile encouragingly, but she couldn't seem to make her mouth move.

"Jean, I still need you. I'll always need you." Lucien's heart began to pound in his chest. The apprehension in her eyes didn't elude him. Perhaps this was a bit too much. But he couldn't afford to mince words. Not now. Because if he didn't say it now, when would he?

She took her hand from him at last. "Please don't, Lucien. Not here."

And he lost his nerve. He felt actual pain in his chest, stemming from guilt and shame and loss and rejection and deep longing. Lucien wanted to take her in his arms, tell her all that was in his heart, and kiss her until they were both dizzy. He wanted to love her, fully and truly. But he could see now that wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want him to say anything. She didn't want him on that bus with her. Had she just allowed him to hold her out of…obligation? Politeness? She had held his hand since they'd sat down, but she'd taken that away from him now as well.

This wasn't going as he had expected, though now Lucien wasn't even sure what he had been hoping for. And, realistically, had he really thought Jean would respond any other way? As much as he put her up on a pedestal in his mind, fantasizing about her like they lived in some magical fairytale, Jean was real flesh and blood. Jean believed in doing what was right, whatever that might be. Her sense of duty and devotion had endeared him to her. Jean was always smarter, wiser, more respectable, and all-around better than he ever was. That was why he loved her so. And that Jean, the real Jean, would never want him to behave this way.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

The bus screeched to a halt. Jean and Lucien both looked out the window to see that they had arrived in Adelaide. They had somehow spent hours on that bus just sitting in each other's arms, allowing the other's presence to comfort them. They'd spoken very little, for which Jean was glad. Lucien didn't see how he could have wasted such precious time with her. And now they'd arrived and he had absolutely nothing to show for it. He hadn't spoken to Jean as he'd wanted. He had no luggage. He didn't even have a hat on his head. What was he supposed to do now?

"Christopher is coming to meet me," Jean said, hoping that would create some kind of plan of action in him.

Lucien nodded. Of course her son was coming to meet her. "I shouldn't be seen with you," he stated. In his mind, it was more of a question, but Lucien realized he already knew the answer. She didn't want to be seen with him.

Jean felt her countenance fall at those words. He didn't want to be seen with her. Well, if that's what he'd decided, she supposed he must have meant it.

He stood from the seat on the bus. "You go see your family. I'll send word of where I'm staying, once I find somewhere."

She perked up, feeling hopeful. "You'll be staying in Adelaide?"

"I won't be able to get a bus back at least until tomorrow. But I would like to speak with you in private before I go," he replied, reminding her of his true purpose. But even to his own ear, the words felt hollow. Lucien already felt defeated, and he hadn't even heard her let him down yet.

Jean didn't like that expression on his face. His eyes, so full of passion and intensity when he'd gotten on the bus, were now dull with sadness. Perhaps if they weren't on a bus with a lot of other people and if she were a different sort of person, she could have fallen into his arms again, clutching the lapel of his jacket, and tell him to be happy. But Jean couldn't do that. So instead, she just put her hand on his arm and said, "Stay a few days at least. You came all this way, after all. Let me give you the phone number for Christopher's house, and you can call me tomorrow. I'll meet you at your hotel and we can talk."

Lucien was slightly encouraged by her words. "Alright," he agreed. As he watched her take a pen and a scrap of paper from her purse to write down the phone number, he suggested, "You go out and get your luggage and meet Christopher. I'll wait here until he's distracted, that way I can leave without anyone noticing."

She nodded. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," he promised.

He watched her make her way off the bus. Before disembarking, she turned back and gave him a smile and a nod. The cold pain in his heart melted just a little bit. Lucien's eyes followed her as she stepped off the bus and made her way to get her luggage. Christopher was there waiting. He gave his mother a big hug of warm welcome. The sight made Lucien smile. As one who'd had his own ripped away from him, he always placed a high importance on family. Jean was always happier when her sons were around. They brought her unspeakable heartbreak, as only children can to parents, but Lucien knew that Jean relaxed just a little more whenever she could be around Jack or Christopher. And to see her so calm and so thoroughly loved by her boys brought Lucien a strange sense of comfort. If he couldn't be the one to love and care for her, it was good that young Christopher could.

As soon as they'd walked away, Lucien finally got off the bus. He asked a station agent where he might purchase some necessaries, and where a nearby hotel might be located. Due to the hour, the shops had just closed. But the hotel was just around the corner.

Luckily, there were plenty of rooms available. And the housekeeping service was able to bring Lucien a few items he'd need before he could buy things the next morning. He ordered a small dinner and a large drink up to his room and made himself comfortable.

After taking off his jacket and tie and rolling up his sleeves, Lucien sat in an armchair with a glass of whiskey. And he realized how thoroughly stupid he'd been. He'd confronted Jock Clement first thing in the morning, held Doug Ashby as the man died in his arms, and then realized he'd missed Jean's departure. So instead of doing what a rational person would have done, which was to write her a letter or phone her at Christopher's the following day, Lucien ran to the bus station, chased down her bus, and sat beside her for hours and hours, all the way to Adelaide. What did he think he would do? How did he think this would end? She had already decided to go. She'd already committed to her move to Adelaide. They'd had almost a week to get used to the arrangement. She'd moved out of his house first and then out of Ballarat. He had time to try to change her mind, and he hadn't used the opportunity. What had he been thinking?

Lucien swirled the whiskey in the glass and took a large gulp of it. Of course he knew what he'd been thinking. He'd been thinking that she'd never really leave until she actually did. And when she did, he didn't want her to go. Her small absence had only exacerbated the condition he'd already diagnosed himself with months ago: he was utterly and completely in love with her. And love did make men do very foolish things, clearly.

Speaking of which, Lucien's mind drifted back to Ballarat and the responsibilities he'd abandoned without a word. He put down his drink and went to the phone to call the house. It rang for about a minute with no answer. Frowning, Lucien hung up and dialed the Ballarat police station.

"Sergeant Hobart, Ballarat Police."

"Ah, Bill, hello. This is Dr. Lucien Blake. Is Charlie there, by any chance?"

"He's about to knock off. I'll get him for you, Doc."

After a moment of shuffling and distant voices on the line, Charlie answered. "Hello? Dr. Blake?"

Lucien couldn't help but smile ever so slightly. Charlie was such a good boy. "I don't know if you've been home at all today, but I wanted to let you know that I'll be gone for a few days. I realized that I didn't leave any note for you or Mattie or Mrs. Toohey."

"We've been dealing with Ashby's death and charging Clement. I haven't had a moment to stop all day. And Mattie took a late shift so she could see Jean off this morning. Did you get a chance to see her before she left?"

"Yes, I did," Lucien replied awkwardly.

Charlie wisely didn't press any further. "I could see how after today you'd need a little time to yourself. When should I tell everyone you'll be back?"

"Honestly, I'm not quite sure yet. I won't be too long. I don't even know what my surgery appointments look like," he realized.

Charlie assured him, "Mattie and I will take care of it. You get some rest, Doc. We'll reschedule everyone for a week and if it's longer, we'll deal with that too."

"Thank you, Charlie. I'll call again when I know my plans."

"That's fine. Enjoy yourself, and we'll see you when you get back."

"Thank you, Charlie," Lucien repeated before hanging up the phone. He sat back down in the armchair with his drink and stared off into the empty space of the hotel room, trying not to think about Jean but desperately fixating on remembering what it felt like to hold her in his arms, praying that wasn't the last time.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

Jean followed Christopher to his car as he carried her luggage.

"Mum, I can't tell you how glad we are to have you," he said excitedly.

She smiled, not being able to remember the last time she'd heard her son sound so exuberant.

Christopher continued, "I know you'll be getting your own place soon, which is best because our house on the base is so small, but we have a cot set up for you in the nursery. The sofa is rather uncomfortable, I'm afraid, so I didn't think that would do. But this way you and your granddaughter can get acquainted. You'll have lots of time, since she doesn't seem to ever sleep," he added bitterly.

"She isn't sleeping through the night yet? How old is she now?" Jean asked with concern.

"I don't think she's ever slept more than an hour or so at a time since she came into this world two months ago. But you'll see. She's beautiful, Mum. I think she's got your eyes." Christopher put the suitcases in the back of his car and positively beamed at his mother.

"I can't wait to meet her, little Amelia Jean Beazley," she replied.

They got into the car and allowed a comfortable silence to fall between them. Christopher concentrated on driving and Jean stared out the window, watching the sun fall behind the horizon, leaving the landscape darker and darker by the second.

Christopher watched his mother out of the corner of his eye. And for not the first time since asking her to come to Adelaide, he was worried they'd made a mistake. He wanted his mother to be close to his family. She and Ruby had never really gotten on, but he was sure they could if they tried. And now that they had Amelia, Christopher thought it was important for his mother to be nearby.

The last time he'd been to Ballarat, he'd felt very strongly that she should leave. After all, what kind of life did she have there, taking care of Dr. Blake and the others in that house? They worked her far too hard. Christopher knew he could give his mother a more comfortable life and he wanted to do that. Jack had warned him about that Dr. Blake, so clever and just a little too casual and comfortable with his housekeeper, so Christopher had arrived in Ballarat very wary. He'd seen for himself that Jack was underselling it, if anything; that man was positively smitten with their mother. And no good could come from her living under his roof. Thank goodness Ruby had agreed to let her come live with them to help with the baby. It provided the perfect opportunity for change.

But over the past weeks since he'd asked her to come, Christopher had doubts. Despite the worries he and Jack both had, she had seemed so very happy there. Of course, that could just be the same Jean Beazley, carrying on in her strong, stoic manner, no matter what. But maybe it was more than that. Christopher had been so absent from his mother's life for so long that he honestly couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he wanted to be able to take care of her if he could. And she had agreed to come, which she wouldn't have done if she didn't want to. So here they were.

Jean stared out the window, using the quiet to think. She had arrived to fulfill her duty as a mother and a grandmother, helping her family. It was nice to be able to help her own family, and not just the people she worked for who boarded in the Blake house. Yes, in Ballarat, she'd done a job. Here in Adelaide, she'd be a part of a real family. Her family. Her Christopher Jr. and his wife and their little girl. Jean couldn't wait to meet the baby, her tiny namesake. Yes, this was sure to be a wonderful opportunity for her, and she mustn't forget that. And yet…she couldn't help but slightly dread arriving at Christopher's house. Ruby had never liked her. The woman was a princess, waiting for others to care for her. Jean never had thought she'd be a good wife for Christopher. But he loved her, and that's what mattered. Secretly, she wasn't surprised that Ruby wasn't coping with motherhood well; she'd never had to worry about anyone's wellbeing other than her own.

Without realizing it, Jean had been tracing the back of her own hand. Where Lucien had caressed her earlier. She could still feel the touch of his fingers on her. Her stomach began to tie in knots as she recalled the scent of him when he'd held her in his arms and the comforting scratchiness of his beard on top of her head and the unimaginable softness of his lips as he kissed her forehead. That morning, she had been so distraught at the idea of not saying goodbye to him before she left. But the way he'd looked at her when he got on that bus and locked eyes with her...There was something in his eyes that she'd recognized but never seen so clearly in him before. It had always scared her. Thank goodness she'd have another opportunity to see him. She knew he wanted to talk to her about something, though she dreaded whatever it was. She didn't dare be optimistic about it. More than anything, she yearned for him to hold her again.

"Mum?"

Jean snapped back to reality. "Hmm?"

"This is our house here," Christopher told her, pointing to a small white house in a row of identical dwellings.

"It's lovely!" she lied.

"I'll get your things. You go right in. Ruby said she'd have dinner waiting for you."

Jean got out of the car and gave herself a fortifying deep breath. This was home now. As she approached the door, she could hear the wailing cry of a baby inside and paused. Christopher came behind her.

"That would be our Amelia," he said apologetically. He put the cases down and went right to the front door. "Ruby?" he called as he went inside. "Come on in, Mum," he instructed.

And inside she went, entering the most chaotic house she'd ever seen. There was clutter everywhere. It looked as though everyone had begun allowing things to remain wherever they fell. Jean practically shuddered at the sight. The baby's crying continued. She followed Christopher toward the sound to the back room, converted into a nursery for Amelia. There, Ruby was bouncing the baby in her arms and shushing her to no avail.

"Ruby? We're here," Christopher greeted apprehensively.

When Ruby turned around, Jean nearly shouted. The former beauty queen looked as though she'd neither slept nor bathed in a week. She was wide-eyed with panic. "I didn't get any dinner for you. Amelia wouldn't stop," Ruby said in a raspy voice.

Jean sprang into action. "Here, let me meet my granddaughter," she insisted gently, taking the baby from Ruby's shaking arms. "You go sit in the living room for a bit. Christopher, perhaps you can put together some sandwiches for us and get Ruby a glass of water."

Christopher lead his wife out of the room to do as his mother said. Amelia continued to cry even harder, if that were possible. She didn't seem quite right, somehow. She wasn't pink and soft and squishy like new babies always seemed to be. Amelia was pale but red-faced, and she felt hot and delicate. Jean couldn't help but worry a little bit. She'd get the baby calm and fed and rested, and hopefully she'd look a little better. As she quieted Amelia—a feat that was more difficult than expected—Jean knew she'd arrived not a moment too soon. Christopher had undersold how much they needed her. Jean had her work cut out for her here.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Ruby shuffled back into the nursery, unsteady on her feet from exhaustion. She carried a glass of water and a sandwich on a plate. "You got her to stop," she stated in awe, seeing Jean calmly holding the baby.

"Yes, I think she was hot. I took the blankets off her and just held her still for a bit," Jean told her.

"Christopher made a sandwich for you. And here's some water." Ruby's entire tone and expression seemed lost.

Jean nodded. "Thank you very much." She put the baby in the bassinet, hoping she'd stay quiet for a few more minutes. Jean took the glass and plate from Ruby. "Here, come sit with me while I eat. Have you had dinner already?"

"I'm not sure," Ruby replied quite honestly.

"Are you hungry?" Jean asked with concern.

Ruby's bottom lip started to quiver and her eyes welled up with tears. "I'm not sure."

"Oh dear, Ruby, come here." Jean put her small meal down and stood up to give Ruby a hug. The young woman began to cry in earnest. "Shh, it's alright. Everything will be alright. You're just tired. I know how it is. Shh, there, there, Ruby," Jean comforted.

Ruby sobbed, "I'm so glad you're here. I don't know what I'm doing and no one will help me! Christopher is gone at work and the other wives all hate me!"

"I can't believe that's true." But Jean knew that, in all likelihood, the other army wives probably did hate Ruby.

"I didn't think this would be so hard. I don't even think Amelia likes me! She cries all the time and she won't sleep and she barely takes my breast," Ruby continued.

Jean soothingly rubbed her back. "You're just a new mother. And if you think about it, Amelia is a new baby. She's never done this before either."

That gave Ruby a slight chuckle. She began to catch her breath and she pulled away slightly. "Thank you, Jean."

"That's what I'm here for," Jean told her with a nod. "Now then, the baby seems to be alright for now. Let's you and I go into the kitchen and I'll make us some tea. Nothing ever seems as bad after a cup of tea."

Jean familiarized herself with the kitchen. It was in disarray like the rest of the house. Once Ruby had gotten a little rest, Jean knew she'd have to knock some sense into her. No need to scold her right now. But the idea of her son having lived in this house was absolutely appalling and completely unacceptable. Clearly Christopher had been lying through his teeth when Jean had asked if Ruby had been taking care of him.

Ruby drank her tea and felt like she was exhaling for the first time since she had gotten pregnant. Being in a quiet house and just sitting down felt like the biggest luxury. In the back of her mind, she thought about where she'd been a year earlier. She'd been beautiful and admired by all, a woman Christopher Beazley was proud to have on his arm. If her past self could see her now, she would have rather killed herself than become this mess. Now, Ruby was too tired and too beaten down to feel any ounce of shame over what she'd become.

Christopher came into the kitchen after putting Jean's things in the nursery. "Mum, your suitcases are by the cot for you. I'm happy to move anything around, if you need."

"That'll be fine, thank you. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That would be lovely, thanks." He sat down next to his wife and took a sip of tea. It was so quiet. He couldn't recall the last time it had been so quiet. It seemed like every moment he spent at home was full of either Amelia or Ruby crying and carrying on.

Jean watched them across the table. They were comfortable and calm now. No need to wait any longer. "I can see why you wanted me to come," she began.

"It's been difficult," Christopher replied, glancing at Ruby worriedly. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to start criticizing his wife.

But Jean wouldn't let him make excuses. "Clearly it's been difficult. The first baby is always difficult. When I had you, your father and I were working in the fields for nine hours each day. And you were never satisfied with anything. But having a new baby doesn't mean you can let your entire life and house fall apart. Do you realize the state of this house?!" she scolded.

"Mum, Ruby's been having a hard time," Christopher explained.

"Yes, I know. You've said that. And she is your wife. If she's having a hard time, you don't just let chaos settle in, you help! Christopher Beazley, I raised you better than that! You don't let your wife suffer alone, and you don't just drop everything on the floor. She has one child to look after. She doesn't need another who doesn't pick up after himself."

Christopher stared at her with shock. He hadn't been reprimanded by his mother since he was a boy. Not even his commanding officers berated him that way.

Ruby was surprised as well. She had always reluctant to see her mother-in-law because she never seemed to approve of anything Ruby did. But now, she seemed to be blaming Christopher for the problem, which was just fine by her. The corners of her mouth ticked up as Jean read Christopher the riot act.

Jean noticed how Ruby was smiling and put it to a quick end. "You aren't blameless in this. You have a baby and a husband. You can't take care of them if you don't take care of yourself. Clearly you haven't been sleeping, and I'm sure you can't tell me the last time you had a bath. You have to ask for help when you need it! There is no reason things should have gotten this bad."

Both Ruby and Christopher hung their heads. They mumbled incoherent apologies and excuses and weak justifications for their behavior.

With a sigh, Jean finished her chastising. "This won't go one for one more day. Right this minute, Christopher, go pick things off the floor in the living room. It's a deathtrap in there. Someone is going to trip and break their neck. And Ruby, go take a bath. Wash your hair and your face and put on some lotion, and I know you'll feel worlds better. Both of you will have a good night's sleep because I will get up with Amelia if she wakes. Alright?"

Christopher just nodded. He left to do as he was told.

Ruby thanked Jean profusely, nearly working herself to tears again. "I don't know if I could have survived without you!"

"Yes, well, that's enough of that," Jean said awkwardly. Honestly, the amount of unbridled emotion coming from that woman was exhausting. She shooed Ruby away so she could clean the kitchen.

Soon enough, Amelia began crying again. Jean went to see to her. This time she needed a change. Quiet again in no time. Before bed, Jean made sure Ruby fed the baby. Ruby had been right, Amelia had trouble latching. She probably wasn't getting fed enough.

"Ruby, do you have any formula in the house?" Jean asked. "That way I can feed her during the night so you can sleep," she added quickly.

"Oh. That's probably a good idea. Yes, the doctor gave me some when we took Amelia home, but I haven't used it. Feeding isn't the easiest thing, but I know I can at least do that," Ruby insisted. "The evaporated milk is in one of the kitchen cabinets somewhere." She settled into the chair to continue breastfeeding. After having a bath, she was in much better spirits. Almost like her old self.

Jean was starting to find where the lines were drawn with Ruby. She could give instruction and help for Ruby herself, but obviously any criticism of her mothering ability was going to be met with resistance and denial. That was a boundary Jean could tiptoe. After all, it was Amelia's health and safety that mattered more than anything. Jean would just have to find ways of helping that didn't upset Ruby. That had been Jean's apprehension before even arriving in Adelaide, and clearly, she'd predicted correctly.

The night was not as smooth as Jean had promised. Amelia seemed to refuse sleep. It was as though the darkness just fueled her. Jean tried everything. Feeding, burping, changing, swaddling, rocking, bouncing, singing, everything. Nothing seemed to help. After a few hours, Jean wanted to cry herself. No wonder Ruby had completely lost it.

But Jean's sleepless efforts were not in vain. By just not being the one to tend to Amelia for a few hours, Ruby got a few hours of much-needed sleep. Christopher slept through the night having his wife beside him, not getting up every few minutes. It was only Jean and Amelia who were exhausted in the morning.

As usual, however, Jean kept her chin up and her mouth shut. This was why she'd come to Adelaide. And Amelia couldn't cry forever. She'd fallen asleep just as the sun was rising.

"Good morning, Mum. How was your first night?" Christopher asked, walking into the kitchen to find his mother making tea again.

"Just fine," Jean lied. "Amelia needs some regularity. It'll take a while to get everyone on the same schedule, I think." Jean knew her tone and words were much more optimistic than she felt. "Shall I make you some breakfast?"

"Oh. Sure," Christopher said with surprise. "I usually just have a bite at the commissary."

"Doesn't Ruby make you breakfast?"

Christopher just looked at her incredulously.

"Ah. Of course. I suppose there isn't much food in the house, is there?"

Ruby came into the kitchen. "No, we're running rather low at the moment. Good morning, everyone," she greeted brightly. Jean could have smacked her in the mouth.

The phone rang, interrupting them. Ruby went to answer it.

She came back with a curious expression. "Jean, it's Dr. Blake calling for you."

Jean had completely forgotten that she'd asked him to phone. "He's just checking in that I arrived alright, I'm sure," she said hastily, hurrying to the living room to answer the phone. "Lucien?"

"Jean! I know it's only been a few hours since I saw you, but I've missed your voice."

Her stomach sank. "How are you?" she asked, hoping to postpone the unpleasantness.

"Oh I'm fine," he told her dismissively. "I'm calling just as you asked. What time would you like to meet? I don't really know my way around town, but I'm sure I could find whatever place you'd like."

She paused, trying to find the words. "I won't be able to meet you today."

"You won't?" His voice was flat with disappointment.

"Things here are much…worse than I'd imagined."

"I see."

"I'm so sorry. I know you came all this way just to tell me something and I haven't let you. It isn't fair. But I don't know when I'll be able to get away," she told him.

The line was silent for a moment. Lucien asked her what he thought she was subtly trying to tell him. "Do you want me to go back to Ballarat? I can wait for you, if you want. But I don't think either of us need to waste the other's time."

"Please stay." Jean heard the words come out of her mouth before her brain could stop her heart from begging him. She swallowed the ball of emotion forming in her throat. A night without sleep was wreaking havoc on her self-control. "Let me write down where you're staying. I'll leave word when I can come see you," she promised.

Lucien brightened considerably. "Alright." He gave her the name of the hotel and his room number so she'd be able to connect through the operator when she needed.

Jean hung up after promising to call him as soon as she could. The guilt was going to eat her up inside. She'd been so consumed by Amelia and Ruby and Christopher since she arrived that she'd completely forgotten about Lucien. And now that she was reminded, her heart ached with the desire to see him and talk to him again. To just sit in the same room with him. Suddenly she was very homesick for Ballarat and their life there. But Jean shook herself. This was her home now. With a deep, cleansing breath, she put Lucien out of her mind again and went back to the kitchen to make breakfast for her family.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

It took two more nights before Amelia actually slept during the night. It was only for a few hours, but it was a start. Jean was starting to get as sleep deprived as Ruby. But now Ruby was slowly getting back to her former self. Bathing regularly and getting more than two hours of sleep in a week tends to have that effect.

On Jean's third day in Adelaide, she knew she couldn't reasonably postpone any longer. Nor did she want to. "Ruby, I'm going to take Amelia out for a walk into town. I need to pick up a few things in the shops. Do you think you can manage the laundry while we're gone?" Jean asked, hoping her daughter-in-law wouldn't ask any questions.

"I do know how to do laundry," Ruby snapped.

"Alright! I didn't think you couldn't. I just thought it might be a bit easier without the baby distracting you or having me being underfoot," Jean replied defensively.

Ruby softened. "Yes, that probably will be good."

"That's right. You enjoy the peace and quiet. I have to make a phone call, and then we'll be out of your hair for a while."

Jean went to the living room to use the phone while Ruby dressed Amelia for her outing. In the slight privacy of the empty room, Jean dialed the number for Lucien's hotel and asked to be connected to his room. Miraculously, he was there.

"Hello?"

"Lucien?"

"Jean!" he exclaimed. "I was starting to worry you'd never call."

"I'm so sorry. Things have been absolutely overwhelming here. I'd like to come see you, if it's convenient."

"Of course. When?"

"I thought I'd walk over now," she told him, hoping that would be alright.

"Wonderful. I'll see you soon." Lucien's smile could be heard in his tone.

He hung up the phone and whizzed around his hotel room. She was finally coming to see him. He'd had three days to stew and contemplate each and every aspect of what he wanted to say to her. It all flooded him in a jumble now. He nervously straightened the pillows on the bed and made sure everything was tidy and clean. She'd appreciate that. At least he hoped she would.

Unable to fidget around the room any longer, Lucien forced himself to sit down and close his eyes. He re-rehearsed the speech he'd prepared. It had been refined since he'd first thought about it, running after Jean's bus. Now it was finely tuned and perfectly balanced. Lucien's heart pounded in his chest. He considered having a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves, but he decided against it. He wanted to be sharp and aware of everything when he spoke to Jean.

Finally, a knock came at his door. He took a deep breath and opened it. There she stood. Her hair was a little mussed. Her skin seemed pale and dull. But her eyes were bright, and her beautiful mouth spread into a smile when she saw him.

"Jean," he whispered, unable to put any other words together.

"May we come in?" she asked.

It wasn't until that moment that Lucien realized she was pushing a pram. "Oh. Of course, yes." He moved aside so she could wheel the baby inside. "I take it this is Amelia Jean Beazley?"

"Indeed," Jean replied proudly. "I wanted to give Ruby some time alone in the house. Hopefully she'll do something productive, though I do doubt it," she said cynically.

"Things not going well?" Lucien guessed.

"It's a nightmare. No wonder Christopher asked me to come. Things are a bit more regular than they were when I arrived, but it's only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. And actually, that's one of the reasons I brought Amelia. She is better now, but when I arrived, she didn't seem quite right. Ruby would never hear a word against her baby, which is understandable, but I was worried. Could you examine her?" Jean asked.

"Certainly." Lucien was happy to help in any way he could. He picked the baby up. "Oh she's rather light, isn't she?"

Jean nodded. "Ruby's had some trouble feeding, not that she'd admit it. I've been feeding formula to the baby as often as I can, but I can't tell if it's helping. And she barely sleeps and she cries all the time. This is the quietest she's been in quite a while, actually."

"Babies always seem to like me," Lucien teased. He gave Amelia as full an examination as he could manage without his medical bag. He asked Jean some questions about the baby's habits as he looked her over. And then he fell quiet for a little while.

"Well?" Jean prompted. She was growing impatient and a little nervous.

"Based on what you've said, it seems that Amelia is suffering from colic. It should taper off by the time she's three months old. There isn't much you can do. Just keep up what you've been doing: keep her on a regular schedule, make sure she's not overstimulated by noise or light, and keep her well-fed. I think she's a little malnourished. The formula will do wonders, but it'll take a little time, especially if Ruby can't breastfeed sufficiently. But other than that, there doesn't seem to be anything too worrisome about her. She's a beautiful baby, Jean. You should be very proud of your namesake."

Jean couldn't help but smile. It also struck her that Lucien Blake looked very natural and at ease around a baby. It was actually quite heart-warming.

"I think she's starting to fall asleep," Lucien noted, putting her back in the bassinet. Amelia yawned and her blue eyes drooped closed.

"Thank god for that!"

Lucien turned his attention to her. "Can I get you anything? Tea or something? I can call down to the kitchen."

"No, I'm fine. Thank you," she replied politely. Jean's eyes darted around the room, realizing that something very big and important was about to happen.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked nervously.

"If you want me to."

"No, I think I'd prefer to stand. You should stand. If it's all the same," he replied awkwardly.

Jean just nodded, fixing her gaze on him. "You've wanted to say something to me and I wouldn't let you. I think it's now or never."

"Of course." Lucien realized that all of his well-practiced words had vanished from his head. He'd just have to make it up as he went. "Jean," he began, reaching out to take her hands. She willingly reached out to him, smiling softly. His heart beat faster as he stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "Oh, Jean," he whispered.

"Yes?"

And he launched into his amalgamation of thoughts and feelings and lovesick nonsense. "Jean, I can't believe I let you go. I know it was your choice, and your family needs you. I know it isn't fair of me to say this, especially not since you're already here and getting settled, but I was a fool to let you leave. I should have…I don't know what I should have done. I suppose I should have told you every day how much I care for you. How much I need you, not just to take care of my house and my meals and such, but all the other things you've done for me. I've come to rely on you for every aspect of my life and my work. You're the most brilliant person I've ever known, in every sense of the word. And your kindness and understanding…in my darkest times, Jean, of which there have been many since I came back to Ballarat, you've stood by me and led me back to the light."

She stared at him with wide eyes. Her mouth went dry and her knees were feeling a little weak.

Lucien continued, "Jean, you are everything that makes my life any sort of life at all. I need you. But more than that, I want you. I want to see you every morning at breakfast and to say goodnight to you over a drink. And I…" he paused, sighing. "I want to make you happy. I want to see you smile each and every day. Jean Beazley, I love you, and I want you back."

Jean didn't know what to say. She could barely think. Her head was swimming from the heady combination of his words and her lack of sleep. So she did the only thing that seemed to make sense in that moment.

She let go of his hands so she could grab hold of his face and fall into his arms, pulling him toward her.

He realized what she was doing the instant she began. And he was happy to participate.

Jean and Lucien fell into one another as their lips met. The kiss started out soft and hesitant but quickly turned to more. Lucien wrapped one arm around her slim waist, holding her against him, as his other hand found its way to the back of her head. Jean's hands stoked his face and neck, rubbing against the coarseness of his beard. Her lips parted to allow his tongue to move against hers. She moaned involuntarily, pulling him even closer to deepen their passionate embrace.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

Jean's entire being sparked with everything he ignited within her. It had been so long since she'd felt this way. Actually, she wasn't even sure she'd ever experienced anything like this before. To be in Lucien's arms, to be caressed and loved by him in this way, felt like the culmination of everything between them. She'd never allowed herself to consciously imagine what it would be like to kiss him…though the texture of his beard had crossed her mind more than once, as had the curiosity of how his gentle yet powerful hands might move across her body. She could now say from experience that it was better than she could have ever imagined. And the way he kissed her…no, Jean had never experienced anything like this before. She never wanted it to stop. If only she could stay in this hotel room in Adelaide with him forever.

But she couldn't stay in that hotel room with him forever. Her mind snapped back into focus, and she let go of him, pulling her lips away from his and pushing him off her. The sudden absence of him was palpable, like he'd taken all her breath with him. She backed away, panting.

"Lucien, we can't."

He was also breathing heavily. He blinked at her and swallowed hard, clearly trying to regain the power of speech. "What? Why not?" he finally managed to ask.

Jean gestured to Amelia, fast asleep in the pram beside them. "I have responsibilities here! I came here to take care of my family. I can't be abandoning them to have a clandestine tryst with you in a hotel room!" Jean realized her voice was gaining a high, hysterical pitch.

"I don't see why you can't take care of your family _and_ continue to kiss me in your free time," he recommended with a small smirk.

She shook her head. "No, you aren't…" she trailed off, unsure of how to put it all into words. She dropped her gaze to fix on the carpet at her feet.

He took two steps toward her and place his hands on her shoulders. "Jean, you can't honestly tell me you don't care for me as I care for you, at least a little?"

Jean allowed him to tilt her head up by her chin to look into his eyes. She really did love his eyes. They always shined the deepest, brightest blue she'd ever seen. So much expression and depth. She could always tell what he was really feeling just in his eyes. Now, Lucien's blue eyes were so full of affection and hope. But she knew it couldn't last. "You don't understand," she said, barely over a whisper.

"What don't I understand?"

She frowned. "You weren't supposed to follow me. I wanted you to say goodbye to me at the bus station and let me leave."

"I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye," he explained.

"So say your goodbye," she replied forcefully.

Lucien took a half-step back from her, shocked by this quick change of mood between them. "Jean, I…"

She had been very correct in knowing the love in his eyes couldn't last. Now they were filled with confusion and heartbreak. This was a feeling she was very familiar with. "I came here to take care of my family. I wasn't just left to pick up broken pieces of anyone else's problems. I was finally given a choice, and I made my choice.

"My Christopher and I had an argument and he went to war and got killed. You and I had a disagreement and you went off to China for months, leaving nothing more than a note. And when you finally did come back, it was with Joy McDonald! I can't keep waiting for men to leave as they always do, only to come back to me changed from the choices they've made, if they come back at all.

"I made the choice this time. Me. All on my own, for the first time in my life, I took an opportunity not because it was the only path in front of me, but because I could actually make a choice! And you may love me today, Lucien, but I can't sit at home wondering if you'll return. This time, I'm the one who gets to leave and experience things, and I won't let you take that from me, and I won't let you try to convince me to abandon my family."

After her impassioned outburst, Lucien just stared at her. He tried to process her words, but it was too much for him to comprehend all in one moment.

Jean took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Somehow, she had managed not to cry, despite the immense pain of her heart breaking in her chest. "I should get Amelia home," she said quietly, moving toward the pram. She began to push it toward the door but paused beside Lucien, who still stood there motionless. "I think it's time you went back to Ballarat," she recommended. And with one final gesture, Jean put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze before pushing the pram out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

Jean walked back through town, pushing Amelia's pram, and keeping her head down. No one knew her here, but even so, she didn't need anyone to see her crying. She knew she had to leave him, as much as it pained her to do so. Jean had made a commitment to Christopher and Ruby and little Amelia. She needed to be here in Adelaide for them. The ache in her heart for Lucien would fade, she was sure, just as the ache in her heart for her Christopher had faded while he'd been away at war and eventually dulled to a numbness after learning of his death.

But Lucien wasn't dead. He was in that hotel room, and he had told her he loved her. He was right there, wanting her. And she'd said no. She'd had to. She had already made her choice. He was too late. If only he hadn't waited so long to realize or tell her or do something. But even if he had, would she have allowed it? Give voice and truth to the whispered rumors about them all around Ballarat about the doctor and the housekeeper living in his employ? No, perhaps not. But even so, hearing him say such lovely words of affection to her had felt like a dream come true. Jean hadn't felt loved like that in such a long time. And that kiss was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Knowing it was likely to be the first and last they shared was breaking her heart.

And so she let the tears fall down her face as she hurried through the streets of Adelaide, back to the army base where the family lived. She had other concerns now. Somehow, she'd put Lucien Blake out of her mind and focus on what was right in front of her.

As if on cue, Amelia woke from her nap and began to cry. Jean had to chuckle through her tears at the timing. She stood off to the side of the road to pick up the baby and comfort her before going on their way.

Back in his hotel room, Lucien sat on the edge of the bed in pure shock. He didn't quite have definite expectations from his encounter with Jean, but this wasn't anything like he'd imagined. He could still feel the touch of her lips. The taste of her was like a heady drug that he hadn't quite recovered from yet. That certainly hadn't been a part of his plan. Of course, he had thought about what it would be like to kiss her a number of times since they met, but he knew better than to waste his energy on such fantasies; Jean was a respectable woman in all senses, and her propriety and decorum was one of the things he liked best about her. She was so much better than he in every way.

But more than that, her words echoed around his head. There was a vice grip on his stomach when he thought about what she's said. How everyone had abandoned her, him included. How she'd always been left to follow the path in front of her without any real choice or agency in her life. Lucien had suspected that there was a degree of quiet suffering within her. Jean was often so guarded, hiding at arm's length as a method of protection. But he didn't realize how hard it was for her. She may not have been tortured as a prisoner of war, but life had been just as unkind to Jean Beazley as it had been to Lucien Blake. He'd never realized. He'd never thought to ask.

Even more astounding was this new understanding that his choices in life since moving back to Ballarat had affected her. It was stupid of him not to realize that the things he did had repercussions, but it had been so long since anyone else's life had been tangled up in his that he hadn't thought twice about it. But of course his choices affected Jean. A blind man could see how she cared for him, taking care of him and his house. Yes, it was her job, technically, but no housekeeper would ever tolerate the kinds of nonsense Lucien had perpetrated without something more tying her to the house. And to the man. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have lived his life so ignorantly unilaterally?

Well, his choices had affected her and now her choice to stay in Adelaide had affected him too. Perhaps it was only fair that Lucien experience the consequences of his foolish follies. He should have spent every day for the last two months telling her how much he loved her and needed her and wanted her, but of course he hadn't. And now he was suffering from a terrible case of bad timing and arrogant assumptions.

Finally coming to his senses, Lucien noticed the time. He stood up and took a deep, cleansing breath. Knowing he couldn't very well stay where he was, Lucien hurried out of the hotel and to the bus station. He purchased a ticket back to Ballarat for the next morning. He'd done what he'd come to Adelaide to do. And even if it hadn't gone as he'd wanted, he'd done it. It was time to go home. Alone.

Folding the ticket into his jacket pocket, Lucien smirked to himself. Yes, he'd be going home to Ballarat without Jean, but he knew that their story was far from over. He wouldn't allow this to be the end.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

Lucien arrived home the next evening. He opened the front door to the house and announced his presence. "Hello, anyone here?" he called out.

Mattie rushed to the entryway. "Lucien! You're back!" She gave him a big hug and looked behind him. She frowned, pulling away. "Where's…?" Mattie trailed off, realizing her mistake.

He should have known Mattie would see right through any façade. Lucien smiled sadly. "I tried," he told her quietly.

The two shared a silent moment of understanding. Jean had not come back home with Lucien.

"Does anyone else know where I was?" he asked, still keeping his voice low. He didn't know who else would be in the house.

Mattie shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Charlie and Lawson both assume you left after what happened with Doug Ashby and the news of your mother. And Mrs. Toohey couldn't be bothered, honestly. She comes every afternoon to do the cleaning and fix supper before leaving to go back to her own house. And she's not a very good cook," she told him sadly. "No one else is home right now, so we don't need to hide in the hall."

Lucien followed her into the parlor. Out of habit more than anything else, he made his way to the cabinet to pour himself a glass of whiskey. The house was very quiet. He felt uneasy. But there was nothing he could do about that now.

With a sharp eye, Mattie watched every movement and expression Dr. Blake made. He seemed alright for now, but she suspected that wouldn't last long. When he'd left so unexpectedly, Mattie was sure he'd gone after Jean to bring her home. She half expected them to return together with rings on their fingers. Not that she'd seen anything concrete to make her believe that about Jean and Dr. Blake, but they already acted like a married couple more often than not. Mattie had watched them get closer and closer these last few months especially. If only Jean weren't so closed off and Lucien weren't so oblivious. Mattie could have told them they were perfect for each other, but it wasn't her place.

But now Jean was gone, perhaps for good. And Mattie wasn't entirely sure how Lucien would cope. She promised herself that she'd do her best to check up on him as often as she could and make herself available for him when he worked on cases. She knew he wouldn't do well to manage all on his own, so she'd help any way she could. After all, it's what Jean would want.

The days went by, blending into weeks. Lucien threw himself into his work wholeheartedly. He woke early each day, saw patients regularly throughout the days, and jumped at every phone call from the police. He was more efficient and competent than ever before, he was sure. Everything was just fine.

Lawson was grateful to have a police surgeon who actually followed protocol for once. Not since before Lucien had taken over for his late father had the department run so smoothly. It was nice to not worry about having to scold Lucien for speaking to witnesses, accusing people on thin evidence, and breaking into crime scenes to do his own investigating.

Charlie found that his life had become eons easier when the boss was happy, but Charlie also found that life in Ballarat had never been boring before now. Dr. Blake didn't insert himself where he didn't belong, but he also didn't sit at the dinner table discussing cases, nor did he come around to the police station to ask questions and look at case files. He spent most of his time at the crime scene or in the morgue. It seemed to suit him fine and everything was running smoothly, but Charlie found he had to adjust to this new world of regularity and conservative rule-following. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to get excited about his job. The Doc had always kept things interesting and full of the passionate search for justice in solving crime.

Even Alice Harvey, who preferred the company of corpses to living people, noticed the detrimental change in Dr. Blake. He wasn't as chatty during autopsies anymore. As annoying as he was, she found the regularity of his new habits to be something of a let-down. He used to be funny and enthusiastic. Now, he was still pleasant but…something was missing. It wasn't always noticeable, but when Alice watched her friend and colleague very closely, she could see that the light had gone out inside him. And without that, it seemed strange that he could keep on this way, pretending everything was alright.

Late one night, nearly a month after Jean had left and Lucien had come home alone, Mattie awoke to get a glass of water. On her way to the kitchen, she saw the light on in the doctor's study. She quietly watched from the shadowy hallway. He was sitting at his desk with a very large glass of whiskey and feverishly working on writing something. Whatever it was, he was very involved in it. He'd write for a minute, read it back, then crumple up the paper and start again on a new page. This went on for far too long. Eventually Mattie had to make her presence known.

"Lucien, what are you doing?" she asked, cautiously walking into the room.

He looked up, surprised to see her. "Mattie. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, I was up. What are you doing?" she repeated.

A shadow passed over his face. "Ah…just working on a letter."

Mattie gave a soft smile. Now it made sense. "I'll leave you to it then. Give her my love," she said knowingly. With that, she went back up to her room, happy that the doctor had a plan. That must have been what was keeping him going like this. He'd been working on a letter to Jean. Hopefully, with the time to perfect what he wanted to say, Lucien would be able to convince her to return. She didn't consciously recognize that the look on his face was not one of optimism.

In Adelaide, the chaos of the Beazley house was finally starting to get under control. Jean had been there for over a month now. Amelia was _finally_ sleeping all through the night and taking a regular nap each day. The formula feedings had successfully brought her up to an average weight for a baby her age. And the colic had all but disappeared, just as Lucien had predicted.

Now that Jean had been getting some sleep, she'd turned her attention to the rest of the house. She had been trying to gently nudge Ruby in the direction of regular housework, but that seemed to be a fruitless quest. Jean had only slightly more luck with her in the kitchen. Ruby wasn't unintelligent, but she was the most willfully ignorant housewife Jean had ever witnessed. They'd begun snipping at one another with more frequency.

This time, Jean had gone just a little too far in suggesting that Ruby learn how to make a roast with gravy. Ruby had snapped, saying that her husband was perfectly happy with what she'd been making him for dinner for the last two years, and if Jean was so worried about what her son was eating, she could make him a roast herself. Ruby had stormed out of the kitchen and locked herself in the bedroom. Jean just rolled her eyes, quietly cursing herself for allowing Ruby to overcome sleep deprivation. They'd gotten on much better when they were both dead on their feet.

"Hi, Mum."

Jean turned to see Christopher in the doorway. "Oh, I didn't hear you come in! How was your day?" she greeted pleasantly.

"Fine. Where's Ruby?"

Jean just jerked her head toward the back of the house.

"Oh dear. What happened now?" he asked, knowing of the blowups between his wife and mother in the previous few days.

"Heaven forbid I want to feed you a proper dinner," she told him cryptically. Jean turned back to the roast she was dressing.

Christopher regarded his mother for a moment, trying not to let his suspicions get the better of him. He really hadn't wanted to believe that asking her to come had been a horrible mistake. She'd been a godsend for the first two weeks, taking care of Amelia and getting the house in order. He'd thought that his mother's quiet countenance had been the result of exhaustion from the baby. But as the weeks had gone by, they'd all been able to sleep. Amelia was happy and perfectly healthy for the first time. Ruby was back to her gorgeous, charming self. Jean, however, had remained the same. It was like something was missing. Christopher didn't want to believe it, but it was beginning to be hard to ignore.

"I think Amelia might be starting to teethe soon," Jean commented, knowing her son was inexplicably standing in the kitchen, quietly staring at her.

"Oh? What does that mean?"

Jean looked at him incredulously. "It means her teeth are going to start coming in and she's going to be in a lot of pain, so the crying is going to start up again."

"What can we do for it? Surely there must be something we can do."

"Yes, you and Jack started teething very early like this too. The best thing I've found is a rag soaked in watered down gin. The baby chews on the rag and the alcohol numbs the gums so she won't be in pain," Jean explained.

As if her ears were burning, Amelia started to cry in the nursery. Jean sighed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel so she could go see to the baby.

But Christopher stopped her. "No, I'll go. You're busy." He turned to tend to his daughter but paused. "Oh, by the way, you got another letter today." He took an envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the kitchen table on his way out.

Jean's heart skipped a beat. The address was written in that very distinctive script. She cautiously picked up the envelope from the table and held it reverently. It was hard to believe it had been another whole week already. Ever since she'd sent Lucien away, he'd written her once a week. He'd wanted to write more, one of his letters explained, but he hadn't wanted to raise suspicion from anyone. She was glad it was only one letter a week. She couldn't take it any more frequently. Each and every note made her blissfully happy to read, followed quickly by a feeling of deep regret and longing. Her heart ached for him. And his letters were always so pleasant and beautiful. The best and worst part always came at the very end. Each letter was concluded _Just know that I want you back. All my love, Lucien_.

The clearly-masochistic part of her treasured his letters. But the practical part of her, the sensible voice in her head that dominated everything she did, never allowed her to write back. Surely he'd stop writing eventually. If she asked him to stop, he would. But she didn't really want him to stop. Not yet. She wanted to hold onto him just a little bit longer, even if it hurt her desperately to have this glimpse of him in her life and nothing more. Now that Amelia was doing better and Jean didn't just pass out as soon as she put her head on the pillow of her little cot, Jean had taken to rereading his previous three letters every night before she went to sleep. She could almost hear his voice reading the words to her. That was the thought she liked to have in her head at the end of every day.

After staring at her own name written in his hand on the envelope for an inordinate amount of time, Jean opened the letter. Her eyes went down the page and the further she got, the lower her heart sank.

"Mum?"

Jean looked up to see Christopher standing in front of her again. "Yes?" It wasn't until her voice came out as a mere croak that she realized she'd started crying. She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"The, uh, baby is hungry, I think," he said distractedly. At the moment, his mother's tears had all his attention. "Mum, what's wrong?"

Jean just sniffed back her tears and forced a smile that didn't reach anywhere near her eyes. "I'll go feed Amelia." She hurried past him to the nursery, frantically drying her eyes, cursing herself for not being stronger than this.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Ten_

Christopher couldn't help but pick up the letter his mother had left on the kitchen table. When he saw it was from Dr. Blake, he was immediately suspicious and irrationally cross at the idea of the doctor saying anything that would make Jean cry. But as he read, Christopher's attitude changed.

 _My dearest Jean,_

 _I want to confess that my past letters to you have not been entirely accurate. I've told you of how well everything has been here in Ballarat, despite missing you terribly. And yes, Mrs. Toohey is doing a perfectly respectable job as a part-time housekeeper. Charlie and Mattie are both well, and I've been keeping up with my patients and police work just fine._

 _But every single day without you feels like living a lie. I've done my best to keep up appearances and do my job as best I can because I know that's what you'd want. The truth is, I've only been able to keep up because I kept up faith that you'd come back._

 _I know now that this was a foolish thought. You asked me to leave Adelaide, which you had every right to do. But every letter I wrote to you was filled with my sincerest hopes that you would reply, that I could read your words or hear your voice or even see your lovely face again. As of writing this letter today, it has been one full month since I last saw you. And I have heard no reply since that time. I realize now that you do not desire my presence in your life as I so desperately desire yours in mine._

 _And so, please consider this my last letter. My final goodbye. I shall leave you in peace, dear Jean, because I never want to do anything to displease you in any way. Even so, I couldn't help but tell you one final time that you have single-handedly given me a life and a purpose for the first time in many years. Your care and concern have rescued me from the depths of my own despair, and that is a gift I could never fully repay._

 _You are with your family now, where you surely belong. I hope you're enjoying watching little Amelia Jean grow, especially once her colic dissipates. She's certainly lucky to have you as a grandmother to care for her. More than anything, I do hope that you are happy. You deserve happiness more than anyone else I've ever known, and if I cannot be the one who can provide it, I hope you are finding it in the choices you've made._

 _I shall close by telling you one final time that I love you desperately. I couldn't forgive myself if it were not a part of my last farewell to you. Regardless of what happens, just know that I want you back._

 _All my love,  
Lucien_

Christopher read the single page over two more times. He'd suspected that the doctor cared for his mother much more than an employer cares for his housekeeper, but these eloquent words of love were so much more than Christopher had suspected. Beyond that, Christopher tried to piece things together. Dr. Blake had been in Adelaide a month ago. Had he traveled from Ballarat with Jean? Had he tried to keep her from leaving? Obviously he'd written other letters, which Christopher had picked up from the mailroom on the base. But he hadn't been aware that Dr. Blake had professing his love and practically begging her to return to him. The only thing that gave Christopher any comfort was the line that let him know that his mother had not replied to any of Dr. Blake's letters. She probably did not feel the same way about him. Yes, that had to be it. Even so, Christopher couldn't help but think that this might be the missing piece to his persistent worry that something was lacking in his mother's life here in Adelaide.

He heard footsteps and quickly put the letter back where he'd found it, making himself look busy.

"So we're having roast for dinner, is that it?" Ruby asked accusingly.

"It looks like it, yes," he answered distractedly. Christopher relaxed a little to know his mother wouldn't catch him snooping in her private correspondence. "Mum says Amelia is going to be teething soon," he told his wife, changing the subject from dinner, the topic of contention.

Ruby launched into a diatribe about her worries over teething and what Jean had said about it and what they should do and should they contact the doctor for the baby and was she going to go back to not sleeping.

By the time Jean had fed and burped and calmed Amelia, dinner was running late. She took the letter off the kitchen table and stuffed it into the pocket of her skirt. She silently did the cooking as Ruby and Christopher carried on their own conversation about the day's events, his duties on the base and her meager housework and flimsy updates about the baby. Jean could feel Christopher's eyes on her, despite his conversations with his wife. It was rather unnerving to be watched so closely.

Usually, Jean would be annoyed and quite offended at being ignored while she did all the cooking. Not even when she'd been cooking as a job did she allow anyone to be in the kitchen with her and carry on as if she weren't there. But tonight, Jean was glad for the small semblance of privacy. She wasn't in the mood to cater to Ruby's picky whims, nor was she in the mood to try to bolster Christopher's fragile ego.

Jean would surely reread Lucien's final letter until the words faded on the page. But she didn't know how to feel about it now. Her first reaction had been heartbreak, as his letters had given her the illusion that he was still in her life. And now he wouldn't be anymore. But isn't this what she wanted? A new life and a new start in Adelaide? This was the decision she'd made. Jean had known for many, many years that a person just wasn't meant to have everything they wanted. Everything in life requires sacrifice of some kind.

As Jean fixed dinner, she reflected on his words about his ill-placed hope of her return, how he'd kept up with everything in Ballarat in anticipation of her coming back. Jean felt sick with worry over what Lucien would do when that hope was dashed. She had seen him fall victim to self-pity and depression too many times. It had been the role she gladly shouldered in looking after him in those most desperate times. In all honesty, she didn't know how he'd cope without her. Part of her thought that was a hubristic belief on her part, but Jean knew better. Lucien Blake was a brilliant and strong man who blamed himself whenever that strength failed him.

Jean barely slept that night. She kept worrying about Lucien. And then getting frustrated at herself for that inappropriate worry. She had more important things to do than fret over a fully-grown man living three hundred miles away. But realistically, Jean knew she wouldn't be able to be at peace unless she knew how he was doing.

The next morning, Jean waited until Christopher had left for work and Ruby was in the nursery feeding Amelia. She picked up the phone in the living room and dialed the number that had been her own for so many years and prayed.

"Dr. Blake's surgery," came the response on the line.

Jean breathed a sigh of relief. "Mattie!"

It took Mattie a moment to realize whose voice she was hearing. "Jean? Is it really you?"

"Yes, it really is. How are you, Mattie?"

"Oh I'm fine. I miss you. Nothing's the same without you," Mattie lamented. "But that's neither here nor there. How are you? How's Adelaide?"

"Everything's fine. The baby is growing every day. She's finally gotten over her colic, so she's much more pleasant now."

Mattie laughed. She paused, deciding whether to say anything about the elephant in the room, so to speak. "He's in an autopsy right now," she told Jean.

"I'm glad. Rather, I'm glad he's working and he isn't there. I called to talk to you, actually," Jean replied.

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes, really. I…how is he?" Jean asked awkwardly. She realized she only had a limited time to talk to Mattie without prying ears, so she'd better get to the point.

Mattie was glad that Jean had the sense to ask after the doctor, but she hated to give less-than-good news. "He was doing fine for a while. And I mean that. He got up early, he saw patients, he was pleasant to everyone. But he was also up drinking late like he used to when he first arrived, you remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Jean confirmed sadly. This was what she'd worried about.

"But it barely showed. Now, though, it's like he's stopped trying, I guess. He isn't necessarily unpleasant, but he doesn't bother with small talk or contact of any kind outside of his work. He practically ignores Mrs. Toohey. She keeps asking me if she's done something wrong, but I can't very well tell her that she isn't you and that's why he's upset. That isn't her fault." Mattie sighed heavily. It was nice to actually get all of this off her chest. "I don't know what happened in the last three days to prompt this change in him, Jean, I really don't. It's like he just decided to give up, and I don't know why."

Jean knew why. The change must have occurred when he wrote that final letter. That's what she'd been worried about. But she couldn't share that with Mattie. "Just keep an eye on him. I'm sure he'll get over whatever's bothering him for the moment. More than anything, make sure he knows what's in his appointment book each day. If he knows what he's supposed to be doing, he'll manage it. Maybe talk to Dr. Harvey and let her know to keep watch for the time being. She's probably already noticed, but just to be sure…" Jean trailed off. She was falling into old habits. This shouldn't be any of her concern anymore. "But that's beside the point. Mattie, how are your studies going?" she asked in a heavy-handed attempt to change the subject away from such sensitive efforts.

"I know you didn't call to ask about me, Jean. And if you're worried about him, you should come home. I know he went to see you and I know he came back alone. I know that he loves you, and I'm fairly certain you love him."

"Of course I love him!" she snapped. "But I'm here and he's there, and that's all there is to that. I just wanted to make sure he's alright."

"Well, he's not."

The tone in Mattie's voice took Jean by surprise, and she reacted in anger. "I don't like the insinuation that his foul mood is my fault. I'm not beholden to Dr. Blake any more than he's ever been beholden to me."

"I know that!" Mattie interrupted. "But Jean, why can't you come home?" she practically begged.

"Ballarat isn't my home anymore," Jean answered quietly. She'd said the words out loud, but they rang hollow in her head. This phone call had been a mistake. Jean could see that now. "Mattie, I'm sorry, I've got to go. The baby is crying. I'll write to you soon." With that, she hung up the phone, taking a deep breath to stave off any threatening tears. She'd cried far too much in recent days. That was quite enough of that.

Hidden in the dark hallway, Ruby watched and eavesdropped on Jean's phone call. She wasn't sure what that was all about, but she did know that she'd gained an insight into her mother-in-law that positively broke her heart.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven_

That night, Ruby and Christopher were getting ready for bed in their room. She was carefully gauging his mood; he'd seemed so worried lately. Well, Christopher was always worried about something, but Ruby hadn't noticed it in a while, what with all the trouble she'd had with the baby. But now Amelia was a perfect angel, sleeping through the night and feeding just fine and growing into the most gorgeous little girl. Ruby had become herself again, and the Beazleys were finally happy again. Well, most of the Beazleys.

Ruby got into bed beside her husband as he read the last parts of the evening edition of the newspaper that he hadn't seen before dinner. "She needs to go," Ruby said simply.

"Pardon?" He put down his newspaper, confused.

"She needs to go. She's been a godsend, really, but we're past it now."

Christopher wasn't entirely sure he was following. "Are you talking about my mother?"

"Yes, of course I am," Ruby snipped. "And she's too proud and dutiful to ever do it on her own accord, so you've got to talk to her and tell her that she needs to go."

"I don't know if we can really manage on our own yet," he admitted. "But if it's getting to difficult for you two to be in the same house together all the time, perhaps it is time we help her find a place of her own here."

Ruby shook her head. "No, Christopher, you aren't understanding. I don't mean that she needs to leave our house. She needs to leave Adelaide. She has to go back to Ballarat. I'm glad she could be here to help us, but that's where she should be," Ruby said, full of conviction.

"Did you read the letter? Because I don't think that's anything to worry about."

"What letter?"

Christopher frowned. "The letter from Dr. Blake saying goodbye. Apparently he's been writing her once a week begging for her to go back but she hasn't replied. You really didn't see the letter? It arrived yesterday and she left it in the kitchen. That's how I saw it."

"That explains the phone call…" she muttered to herself. A light clicked in Ruby's head. She put her hand over her mouth, hoping it would keep some of the heartache inside. "Oh Christopher, we've made a right mess of things."

"Ruby, what are you talking about!?" He was getting properly frustrated now.

"Your mother has left the town she's lived in her whole life, with all her friends, and her home, so she could help us when you asked. She always does the right thing. She loves you so much and she'd do anything for you. But do you realize what she really gave up to come here? I overheard her on the phone this morning. She was asking about Dr. Blake, making sure he was alright, and it must be because he said goodbye in his letter. Christopher, you should have heard her voice. She isn't at all alright letting him go."

"She just wanted to make sure he was coping. She took care of him for all that time. Must just be a habit she hasn't broken yet," Christopher rationalized weakly. A wave of nausea swept over him.

"She loves him. I heard her say so."

"And he loves her. His letter said so."

Ruby smiled knowingly. "Then why is she in Adelaide when he's in Ballarat?" She put a hand on her husband's arm. "You know she won't go unless you tell her too. Jean Beazley has never put herself, so you'll have to make her do it. Don't you think she deserves happiness?"

Christopher didn't say anything. Ruby had somehow given truth to the suspicions and fears he'd had for months.

"You watch her for a day or so, and I'm sure you'll see. She's not happy here, no matter how much she loves you and Amelia," Ruby added.

For two days, Christopher did as Ruby suggested and watched his mother very closely. Everything he'd noticed before suddenly made so much more sense. He could see how right Ruby was, that his mother wasn't happy. He'd wanted so much to be able to give her more, but now he knew he would never be able to give her what she really needed. So Christopher decided to give her the one thing he could provide for her happiness.

Finally, he found a quiet moment while Ruby was busy with the baby. "Mum, can we talk?" he asked, offering her a seat at the kitchen table.

Jean sat down, suspicious as to her son's intentions. "Alright," she agreed dubiously.

"You know how grateful I am that you came, don't you? It's been wonderful having you here. And Ruby agrees. I mean, you saw her when you got here. And in a month, you've fixed everything. I can never thank you enough."

"You don't ever need to thank me," she insisted. "I'm your mother. It's my job."

Christopher smiled sadly. "I had a feeling you'd say that. You've always been a better mother than Jack or I ever deserved." He cut off her protests. "No, it's true. We've both taken advantage of your generosity over the years. Surely he more than me, but I'm not innocent. Asking you to move here…I see now that I overstepped."

"What do you mean?"

"You fixed everything in just one month. We're alright now. And as much as I want you around to see Amelia grow up and to cook wonderful meals for us and keep our house spick and span, we don't need you anymore. Ruby saw it before I did, but she's right, Mum. It's time for you to go," Christopher conceded.

Jean was taken aback. "I didn't realize I was getting in the way. I'll go stay in a hotel while I look for a flat of my own. That was the eventual plan anyway."

"I have a better idea." Christopher handed her an envelope.

She opened it to find a bus ticket for Ballarat. "What's this for?"

Christopher smiled, but in his eyes, his heartbreak and guilt shone through. "When I saw you for your birthday last year, I was worried that you were working too hard, that you were unnaturally devoted to your position and to Dr. Blake. I was worried about the way he looked at you and talked about you and how blatantly obvious it was that he cared for you. Jack had seen it when he visited you last Christmas. I thought that by bringing you here, you'd be glad to get away from what might be an inappropriate situation."

"There was never anything inappropriate in that house, I assure you. Honestly, Christopher, you think I'd allow anything like that?" Jean argued.

"Of course not. But like I said, I worried. And I thought you felt the same way when you agreed to come here."

"I came because you needed me. I wasn't running away from anything." Jean knew she was telling the truth, but it felt like a lie. She was running away. In a very small way, she was running away from Lucien and the fear she still held about his feelings for her. And, even more so, her feelings for him.

"You aren't happy here," Christopher said bluntly. "I thought it was just being busy with the baby, that things would get better after things calmed down. But they haven't. And it isn't just that you and Ruby don't get along very well. It's more than that. There was a light in your eyes I saw in Ballarat, and it's gone now."

"It's still an adjustment," Jean tried to defend weakly.

Christopher shook his head. "No, I think I've figured it out now. You were so much happier in Ballarat. And I know you're going to hate me for saying it, but I have to. You and Dr. Blake are a perfect pair, and you need each other. It scared me when I saw it in Ballarat, but seeing the total lack of it in you here, I understand now. Mum, I remember when we lived on the farm with Dad. I know what you're like when you're exhausted and stressed and adjusting to new challenges. And in all my life, I have never seen you so bright and calm and thoroughly content as you were with Dr. Blake. My god, we were trapped all night at a murder scene, and you were happier there than you are here with my family."

Jean knew that he was right, she did hate hearing what he was saying. All the things she'd try to talk herself out of all month had been perfectly evident to him. She didn't want him to be right, but of course, he was. She didn't know what to say.

"Go pack your things. The bus leaves early in the morning. I'll drive you to the station," he said softly. Christopher stood up and put his hand on his mother's shoulder. "I want you to be happy, Mum, and this is how. You've fixed our lives, so please let me try to fix yours."

Jean stared at the ticket in her hands. Ballarat. Just seeing the word gave her a feeling of home. Lucien's face flashed in her mind. Jean closed her eyes, trying to remain unemotional. "Thank you," she whispered to her son. Christopher had given her the push she didn't know she needed.

And now, she'd be going back. She wanted to go back. She wanted him back.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve_

Jean disembarked from the bus late in the evening and took a deep breath of the familiar Ballarat air. She smiled. Its smell was comforting and familiar. She was home. Well, almost.

"Mrs. Beazley!"

Surprised to hear her named called, Jean turned abruptly. "Mrs. Toohey, hello," she greeted in return.

"I was just heading home from the Blake residence. Are you here for a visit?" the older woman asked kindly.

"Of sorts," Jean replied awkwardly. "My move to Adelaide turned into more of an extended trip rather than a permanent circumstance. This is my home, so here I am."

Mrs. Toohey's eyes went wide. "Will you be wanting your job back with Dr. Blake?"

Jean wasn't sure how to answer that question. She hadn't come up with a solution to that particular problem during her hours of contemplation on the bus. "Oh…well…"

"Now that you're back, it would make sense. I don't think I'm cut out to be in that house. I get the feeling the doctor doesn't like me much. And there is a position open in a house in Bendigo that a friend of mine told me about. I wouldn't have considered it, see, because I did promise you I'd look after Dr. Blake. But if you're here, I don't see why he'd want to keep me."

Jean quite liked the sound of that, but she didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. "I don't know yet. I'm sure you can take the position in Bendigo, if it would be a better fit for you. I will be going to the Blake house tomorrow. We can work it all out then."

"You're not going there until tomorrow?"

"Yes, I need to get a room at the hotel tonight," Jean explained, gesturing to her suitcases.

"Of course. Well, I'll let you get on your way. It was lovely to see you, Mrs. Beazley," Mrs. Toohey said kindly before going off in the direction of her house.

Jean headed off down the familiar streets to the hotel, hoping they had a room for her. The conversation with Mrs. Toohey had taken her by surprise, as she hadn't expected to talk to anyone about anything of importance yet, but Jean had a slight spring in her step upon learning that Mrs. Toohey didn't want to work for Dr. Blake anymore; if nothing else, Jean would be able to get her job back without much fuss. Assuming Lucien still wanted her. She shook her head, disabusing herself of that fact. He had told her he loved her. He had begged her to come back for a month. And now she was back. Of course he still wanted her. Jean smiled to herself as she carried her suitcases up the front steps of the hotel.

A few blocks down the road, Lucien walked into the Colonist's Club and took an armchair he liked in the corner of the room. Cec Drury came greet him.

"Good evening, sir. Whiskey?" he offered, anticipating Lucien's usual drink order.

"Hello, Cec. Yes, whiskey please. And keep refilling my glass until I stop being able to ask for any more. I think I'll probably be needing a room tonight, if there's one available," Lucien growled.

Cec nodded and went to get the doctor's drink. Lucien sat and waited, brooding quietly. He'd stormed out of the house after just one too many disapproving looks and huffs from Mattie. She was a boarder in his house, and while he valued her friendship and loved her like a member of his own family, she had no right to try to curb any of his vices. Mattie had never paid much attention to his drinking before. He couldn't imagine why she'd started now. What difference did it make to her if he fell asleep at his desk with a bottle in his hand? That was the only thing that seemed to make any sense anymore, and he'd do as he damn well pleased in his own house. But he just couldn't bear to see her eyes narrowed at him one more time. So he'd taken his hat and coat and slammed the door behind him. He'd drink elsewhere, free of her judgmental gaze.

A glass of whiskey was placed on a coaster beside him. "Here you are, sir. And I've informed the desk that you'll be wanting a room. I'll bring you the key when it's ready for you."

"Thank you, Cec," Lucien replied with a kind nod.

"I'm surprised to see you here tonight, sir. I would have thought you'd be celebrating at home," Cec noted.

Lucien frowned. "Why on earth would I be celebrating?"

"Mrs. Beazley, of course. I saw Mrs. Toohey during my break just a moment ago and she told me of Mrs. Beazley's return to Ballarat."

The mention of Jean made Lucien shudder involuntarily. "I don't know what Mrs. Toohey is thinking. But Jean is gone and isn't coming back. I think I'd know if she were in Ballarat," he insisted angrily.

"My mistake, sir." Cec could tell this was a very sore subject, which didn't surprise him in the least, and he quickly left Dr. Blake in peace.

Lucien sipped his whiskey, allowing the familiar burning to fill his mouth and nose and slide down his throat. Why on earth did Cec have to mention Jean? Of course, the man would have no reason to know that Lucien had taken up his heavy drinking again in a vain effort to push Jean out of his mind. Lucien didn't even want to contemplate the idea that Jean would return. It just hurt too much. He had spent an entire month holding onto the faith that she loved him as he loved her, and she missed him as he missed her, and she'd come home to him. But a whole month went by without a single word from her. Jean had done the one thing he'd thought she, unlike everyone else he'd ever cared for, would never do. She had abandoned him. She had broken through his walls of self-preservation, and he had come to rely on her. He trusted her and confided in her. And she had disappeared without a trace.

So here he was, alone again, mourning another lost love. He took another sip, downing the rest of the drink in the glass. Cec would bring him another soon. Lucien almost wanted to laugh at how foolish he'd been, falling in love with Jean Beazley. The strangest part of it was that he had been so sure this was different. She had an inner strength that was unlike anyone he'd ever known. She was strong for him nearly every day, keeping his house and practice and entire life in order. She'd protected him from all threats, both from outside their house and in his own mind. No one had ever taken care of him in such a way before. She had made him want to be better, if only to give her just a fraction of that strength and support that she had so freely given him. His thoughts had become consumed with the need to alleviate her pain as she had done for him. He had failed. He had failed miserably. And she had left.

Cec brought another glass of whiskey. Lucien continued drinking. He knew it was a weakness, and he knew Mattie was trying to take Jean's place by trying to make him stop. But Lucien had not needed to drink when he had Jean. Now that she was gone, what was the point of being strong anymore? No one else needed him for anything as long as he kept up with his patients and the police. What did it matter if he passed out drunk every night as long as he was awake for an autopsy?

So he continued to drink.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter Thirteen_

At just before eleven in the morning, the doorbell rang and Charlie went to answer it. He was alone in the house, and Mrs. Toohey had a key. Charlie wasn't sure who could possibly be coming to the Blake house, so he went to see, hoping it wouldn't detain him too much on his only day off.

He opened the door and his jaw dropped. "Mrs. Beazley!"

"Hello, Charlie," Jean greeted with a happy smile.

"I…hello."

"Can I come in?" she asked, seeing that the poor police sergeant was a bit stunned.

"Oh right, yeah." He moved aside to her in. They instinctively went into the kitchen. "I'm afraid I'm the only one here right now. Mattie had an early shift, and the Doc didn't come home last night."

Jean frowned. "Does he do that a lot now?"

"I don't think so. But he has patients in the afternoon, so I'm sure he'll be back soon. And Mattie will be back for lunch. Can I make you some tea?" he asked, desperate for something to do. It felt so very strange treating Mrs. Beazley like a guest.

"Tea would be lovely, Charlie, thank you."

He went about boiling the water. Having his back to her and a task to perform made him slightly bolder. "I'm really glad to see you. We've all missed you terribly. This house isn't the same without you. But I must say, your arrival was a bit of a surprise. Were Mattie or Dr. Blake expecting you?" he asked.

"No, I did come rather suddenly. The bus arrived last night. I'm staying at the hotel again for the time being."

"How long are you visiting?"

Jean gave a small half-smile. "It turned out that Adelaide was the visit. I'm back home now."

Charlie turned back to her with a bright grin. "Thank god."

She was pleased he was happy. That was one of three she needed to win over, after she'd left them all rather abruptly. "Charlie, do you think it would be alright if I went out to the sunroom to check on my plants?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure they need your attention. Dr. Blake tried to keep things tended to for a while, but he didn't have any luck. None of us have," he admitted.

Jean tried not to dread what had become of her precious begonias and all the other flowers and plants she'd taken such care to grow during all her years in the Blake house. She went out to the sunroom and was pleased to see things were not as dire as she'd feared. A few things were wilting. It looked as though half of them had been overwatered and the other half were dying of thirst. A strange combination. But the prized begonia was still thriving. It needed to be repotted, but that would be easy to remedy.

The front door opened and Charlie saw Dr. Blake return home. "Welcome home, Doc."

"Hello, Charlie," he greeted weakly. His head was pounding a bit. "Is that tea you're making?"

"Yes. We have a visitor in the sunroom. Perhaps you can take the tea tray out?" Charlie suggested, trying his best to keep casual and not grin excitedly.

"A visitor? Were we expecting anyone?"

"No, this was a surprise arrival."

Lucien didn't like how cagey Charlie was being about this, but he was far too hungover to care. He took the tray out to the sunroom to greet whoever was waiting there.

He rounded the corner and his heart skipped in his chest. Jean stood there, leaning forward slightly to inspect her plants. She looked so perfectly beautiful, her hair set just so. She wore a green dress that curved over her slim figure. He always liked her in green. It made her eyes look so bright and very nicely complemented the red lipstick she always wore.

"Jean." His voice was weak and breathless. Whether that was due to the hangover or the surprise in seeing her, he wasn't sure.

She turned at the sound of his voice saying her name. At first, she smiled upon seeing him. But her face quickly fell. "Hello, Lucien," she greeted politely.

He just stood there, staring at her, holding the tea tray. It was a miracle he hadn't dropped it in shock. After all those weeks, he had finally let go of the hope that he'd see her again. He was just starting to get used to the reality of her absence. But here she was. "What are you doing here?" he asked accusingly.

Jean's eyes narrowed. "Yes, well, it's nice to see you, too."

"Not a word for over a month and you just show up here without warning?" All of his hurt and anger was starting to gush out of him uncontrollably.

"You're being rather rude, Lucien. Though I suppose I should expect you to fall into old patterns when you stay out all night drinking too much and not taking care of yourself," she scolded, gesturing to his pallor, the dark circles under his eyes, the unkempt nature of his hair, and the lazy looseness of his tie.

Lucien put the tray down on the side table beside the seating area. "Isn't that just the way of it? You come back just to nag at me. Why are you here at all?" he asked bitterly.

Jean's posture and expression softened. She hadn't meant to get cross at him, but his anger took her by surprise. She pursed her lips and dropped her gaze to the floor momentarily as she readied herself to say what she'd prepared for this very moment. "You once told me I'd always have a job here. Does that still hold true?"

He was confused. "What are you saying?"

She continued, not bothering to wait for him to answer her first question. "You also told me that this is my home. And I want to come home."

"Why?" He hadn't intended the word to come out so sharp. She was looking at him with those big, gorgeous eyes, and they were full of sadness. He tried to ignore it.

"After a few weeks, it was very clear that Christopher and Ruby didn't really need me the way they thought they did. I want to be where I'm needed. But I don't want to be where I'm not wanted. So if you want me to, Lucien, I'll go and find a position elsewhere." Jean held head up high, her jaw set defiantly. Just because her insides were clenched in knots, shaking and pounding with the anxiety and shame of asking for her job back, she didn't need to appear weak in front of him. After all, she knew he valued her for her strength.

Lucien stood a bit taller, matching her assertive posture. "My surgery appointments have been a mess, and Mattie hates Mrs. Toohey's cooking. If you can square it with her, you're free to return as before."

He turned on his heel and walked way. He couldn't look at her anymore. If she only wanted to be there for a job, he'd treat her like an employee. But he couldn't just pretend that it didn't hurt to have her standing so close and yet feel as though she had never been further away. A wave of nausea came over him that had nothing at all to do with the hangover.


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter Fourteen_

Jean was frozen in place by the coldness of his words. And she watched him walk away, leaving her alone again. She had hurt him so deeply, she could see that clearly now. That wasn't what she wanted. She had wanted a happy reunion, if not with professions of love, then at least a friendly smile? Jean knew this was all her fault. Her pride was wounded in even coming back to Ballarat, and she had foolishly hoped he'd be glad enough to see her that they could skip too much explanation.

But she couldn't let it be this way. She couldn't afford to be afraid of apologizing. She couldn't wait for him to forgive her on his own. She wouldn't let things fall back into the way they always were. Neither of them had been truly happy that way. Jean had made her choice to be with her family in a desperate attempt to find happiness on her own. She realized that she had to make the choice here, too, to find happiness with him.

A door slammed inside the house, breaking the spell over Jean. She huffed with determination and went in to find Lucien. The door to his study was closed, presumably after having just been slammed shut. Without knocking, she turned the knob and entered, closing the door again behind her.

He looked up at her entrance with a cross look on his face. He should have known she'd come after him. When had she ever left him alone? Infuriating woman. But even in wanting to be mad at her, Lucien knew in the back of his head that she interfered because she cared; she wouldn't have bothered putting up with him otherwise.

Jean swallowed hard, willing the emotion to remain at bay for the time being. "Lucien, I'm sorry," she blurted. That had been easier to get out than she'd expected. "I was afraid of telling you the truth, but you followed me all the way to Adelaide, mustering up the courage to say all the things you did. I can give you the same courtesy, at the very least."

He nodded ever so slightly, prompting her to continue.

"The truth is, I've always been weak and afraid when it comes to my own desires in life. I ran off to Adelaide because it made me feel brave to try something new, but I see now that I was just trying to escape from what was developing between us. I didn't know what to do about it, you being my employer and me living in your house and hearing all the whispers around town all this time, wondering if there was more truth in them than I wanted to see. And then you came to Adelaide and you confirmed everything I'd been too frightened to believe. So I hid behind duty and responsibility instead of following my heart back to you."

Lucien couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt as though his heart was going to pound right out of his mouth. But he stayed silent and motionless, lest he do anything to scare her off. Now she was starting to get going.

"I didn't want to face the fact that being in Adelaide was a mistake. Christopher and Ruby and Amelia weren't doing well when I arrived, but everything came together and settled after about two weeks. I just kept telling myself that I was where I was supposed to be, and eventually I'd actually believe it. I read every single one of your letters over and over and over before I went to sleep every night. But once again, I was too afraid to do anything about how unhappy I was and how desperately I missed you. It wasn't until I got your last letter that I realized how much I need you in my life. The idea of not hearing from you again worried me. I even called Mattie to check on you."

"You did?"

Jean was distracted from her stream of conscious rambling by his interruption. The hopeful look in his eyes made the corners of her mouth tick upward. "Yes, I did. And she was quite unhappy at me for abandoning you. She was right. I did abandon you. And because of that, I know that me coming back now might be too late for anything more than what we've had before. You have every right to be upset at me for leaving as I did and for turning you away in Adelaide and for ignoring your letters like the right idiot I've been. So I will happily return to work and forget that there was ever almost anything between us." She paused before adding, "Just know that I want you back," mimicking the words he'd repeated so often in his letters.

She pasted an encouraging smile on her face, waiting for a response from him. During her little speech, she'd felt strangely calm, like all the tension was being held in her words, and speaking them aloud released her from their grip on her. Waiting like this, however, made the nervousness build back up.

Lucien didn't say anything. He just stared blankly at her in sheer disbelief.

She should have known this would happen. Whenever she inundated him with a lot to think about, he went quiet like this as he tried to figure it all out. She used to think it was rude to not even acknowledge that she'd said something, but she knew now that he didn't want to react badly to anything from her, so he took the time to consider his words in response. Jean wanted to give him the time he needed. She gave him a nod of finality and turned to leave him to his processing.

"Don't."

Jean wasn't quite sure she'd even heard him speak, but she paused and looked back at him.

Lucien stood up from the desk to stop her from going. "Don't leave." He stood in front of her and took her hands in his. For a whole month, he'd relived the touch of her hands in his dreams. "Don't you ever leave again," he murmured, a smile forming.

"I won't if you won't," she replied, giving his hands a squeeze and leaning toward him ever so slightly.

He chuckled. "Never," he promised.

Lucien let go of her hands only so he could hold her in his arms. He tentatively moved his head down to her, and when she closed her eyes and parted her lips, he kissed her. Jean pulled him even closer, her hands stroking his neck and bearded cheeks. He groaned with desire at the feel of her, and he clutched her flush against him. They kissed until they couldn't breathe anymore. Lucien had to pull away, ever so slightly, resting his forehead on hers.

Jean smiled as she tried to catch her breath. This kiss was even better than the first, because now it wouldn't be their last. "I do love you, Lucien," she whispered.

He beamed. "I love you, Jean. So very much. And I'm so glad to have you back."


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter Fifteen_

Within a few weeks, Jean and Lucien settled into a pattern. Parts of it were familiar and comfortable, while others were new and utterly wonderful.

During the days, Jean cooked and cleaned as she always did. Mrs. Toohey only stayed on one more day after Jean's return, giving Jean a free day to move her things back into her room. But now the house was as it should be. Lucien saw his patients, all organized and well looked after by Jean, back as his receptionist and assistant of sorts.

Lucien hadn't fully realized how tense he had been during her absence, how much effort he'd expended trying to just get through each day without her. Now, he'd never been more relaxed in all his life. He smiled freely, humming as he did mundane tasks, and spoke to everyone with great humor. All in all, a pleasant situation.

The evenings, however, had changed a great deal since Jean's departure and subsequent return. Lucien would sit in the parlor after dinner, chatting with Mattie about her studies, or with Charlie about ongoing police cases. When Jean finished up in the kitchen, she would join them. Lucien had his usual seat by the radio, which he would tune to some nice classical music station. Jean would sit on the sofa with her knitting. Eventually, Charlie and Mattie would go to bed. At that point, Lucien would join Jean on the sofa. And then they would cuddle close together, covering each other in kisses, wrapped in endearments and proclamations of love.

Sometimes, however, Mattie would stay up studying. Or Lucien would have work to do. On those nights, Jean would pour herself a sherry and discretely go into the study and close the door behind her.

On one such evening, Charlie had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water and saw what Jean did. He froze in place, gawking at the closed door.

Mattie decided to get ready for bed and found Charlie in his shocked state. "What's the matter?" she asked with concern.

"Mrs. Beazley just went into the Doctor's study and closed the door."

"And?"

"Well, what do you think that's about?"

Mattie smirked. "Charlie, you cannot be this thick. Why do you think Jean came back?"

"She wasn't needed in Adelaide, so she came home," he replied, frowning.

"Did you really not notice the way they look at each other? Before she left, even. Now, it's even more obvious."

"What is?"

She scoffed, "They're in love! Honestly, the way he looks at her is like something from a romance film. He's been like that for months and months. I'm just glad he finally figured it out. And have you really never thought that Jean acts more like a wife than a housekeeper? Straightening his tie and fixing his lapel, the way her hand lingers sometimes?"

Charlie's eyes went wide. "I never thought anything of it. Not really. I mean, she brings us both dinner when we're at the station late. And he's always talking to her about cases because she's clever…my god, I'm a police sergeant. How did I not notice!?"

"Probably because it's so natural between them," Mattie said with a shrug.

"Wait, so Mrs. Beazley came back because she and Dr. Blake…are having an affair?" Charlie asked, scandalized at the notion.

Mattie suppressed a giggle. "Well, if they are, it's behind that door and nowhere else. And can you have an affair when neither of you is married? Either way, I don't pretend to know what they have between them, but whatever it is has made them both happier than I've ever seen them."

"Well yes, but is that…proper?"

"Charlie, you are a prude," Mattie accused, rolling her eyes. "And it doesn't matter if it's proper or not. They are keeping it quiet, they are keeping it inside the privacy of their own home. And I think it's only right that we ensure both of their reputations." She looked at him pointedly.

"I won't say anything!" Charlie vowed, holding his hands up defensively.

Mattie nodded with satisfaction. "Good. We should just be happy they finally found each other. He was miserable without her, and she deserves all the good fortune in the world." With that final word, Mattie walked past Charlie to her room.

"Of course," Charlie agreed. With one final look at the closed door, he smiled and went to get his glass of water.

On the other side of that closed door, Jean and Lucien were enjoying their private time together. They had begun making very good use of the small sofa up against the wall. It was just the right size for Lucien to lie down with Jean lying directly on top of him.

They were kissing passionately, as they now did blissfully often. Lucien had his arms wrapped around her waist. It took all his self-restraint to keep his hands still. Jean's hands clutched at his waistcoat and caressed his beard and tangled in his hair. She broke away from him for just a moment to catch her breath. She leaned in to resume, but he stopped her.

"Hang on," he whispered breathlessly. He loosened his grip on her.

Jean shifted to move some of her weight off him. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

He chuckled, still trying to catch his breath. "Oh I'm much better than alright. You're just insatiable," he teased.

She immediately stood up from the sofa, blushing furiously.

"Oh no you don't!" Lucien grabbed her arm and pulled her back down so they could sit beside each other. "I quite like this side of you. Though I must admit, I never would have guessed you'd be so eager."

Jean's brow furrowed. "And why not?"

"Well, you're quite proper, aren't you? A very respectable woman in every regard."

She frowned. "You do recall that I was married and I have two children? I may not flaunt it in public, but I do know what I'm doing."

"And I love it," he whispered. He brushed her hair aside so he could kiss her neck, just below her ear.

Jean leaned into his embrace, reveling in the feeling of his arms around her. "I feel like I need to make up for lost time, I suppose. It's been a very long time since I've been with any man like this, and it took us far too long to figure it out for ourselves. I just want to give you all the love I never gave before I left you," she confessed.

Lucien extricated his mouth from her neck. "Jean, you have nothing you ever need to prove to me. I'd be just as happy if we sat in this room talking or reading separate books and never being within two feet of each other. I just want to be with you."

"Well, I don't think you'd be just as happy if we never got within two feet of each other," she pointed out. "And I'm not proving anything to you, but to myself. I've been so stupid all this time, denying things that could make me happy. Too worried about what it would look like or what people would say."

He took her in his arms again and leaned back on the sofa so they were once again lying down together. He kissed the top of her forehead. "No one outside this room ever needs to know what we do inside it. There's nothing anyone can say or do that can diminish our happiness now." Lucien tried to stifle a yawn but didn't manage it.

"Oh dear, you're exhausted. You should go to bed." Jean tried to get off him, but he held her tight.

"No, I don't want to let you go yet," he protested. He knew that going to bed meant going to bed alone, and he didn't want that. Kissing her at her bedroom door was the worst part of his life now. He longed to take her to his bed, or join her in hers. But he wouldn't press that. Even he knew that was too much to hope for at this point. Her lack of concern over the decency of their situation would not extend that far.

Jean snuggled closer to him. "Alright, we'll lie here a little while longer," she conceded.

Lucien could feel himself starting to drift off. His mind was going rather fuzzy. He yawned again as his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. "I'm going to marry you one day," he murmured sleepily.

Jean couldn't resist a beaming smile at hearing those words. "I hope you won't wait too long," she replied softly. She ran her hand over his chest and stomach in a loving, soothing fashion. They would probably end up sleeping most of the night just like this, which was just fine by her. Finally, they were exactly where they wanted and needed to be. They had gotten each other back, better than ever before.

 **The End**


End file.
